Page 91 of Fangs with Benefits

Chapter 31

Elijah

Molly is asleep when I quietly scale the fire escape to her window. She’s usually a peaceful sleeper. In the nights I’ve slept in her bed, I’ve marvelled at the slight part of her lips, the gentle rest of her face in repose.

But tonight, she’s wrapped into a ball, her cheeks puffy and red like she fell asleep crying.

Did I do that?

Fucking hell, I’m a wreck.

Gemma is close to her legs, but I see her eyes are open watching me watch Molly, and she looks like she knows exactly what I did to her favourite human. Even the cat knows I’m a disaster.

Molly’s window is unlocked, and she’s invited me in before, so nothing but propriety can stop me from entering her room. I step in and slide the window shut behind me before kicking off my shoes and dropping into the loveseat she usually stacks clothes on.

Molly wakes in the process, startling at the sight of me. She sits up in bed, propped up by one arm, and blinks sleepily at me. She definitely was crying.

‘Did you break into my house?’ she asks sleepily.

‘Window was unlocked,’ I explain.

‘Still breaking and entering,’ she grumbles and slides her legs over the side of the bed to face me. She clicks a button on her nightstand and it turns on the strand of Christmas lights that hang around the room. I watch her as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes. I’m still wearing the clothes from earlier; I didn’t go home.

I was having a lovely time, dancing and watching this shimmering woman, wishing I could find a way to be with her. I let myself imagine we weren’t doomed, and the thought broke my unbeating heart. I can never have her, not in the way she deserves. I saw her idiot of an ex in that club and remembered all at once that she craves a different life than one I could ever offer. She left that man believing she could have it one day.

I roamed the streets of New York City all night, brooding, panicking, debating leaving entirely, wishing everything was different. It would be safer for Molly if I left; she can never be safe with me, not in the long term.

When what we’re doing is just temporary, she’s safe enough. If we’re temporary, she can be done with me and move on to live a very human life. Maybe she’ll have those kids she talked about wanting, the porch swing, all of it. And I will live on forever, drifting, remembering sunshine hair and a wide, hard-earned smile.

But every day with Molly has planted horrible, dangerous ideas in my mind, ones where she can stay by my side for as long as she’ll have me–this impatient writer from the middle of America put on Earth to make me want her.

Those ideas don’t feel temporary; they feel like if I have any less than forever with her it won’t be long enough.

‘Where were you?’ she asks.

‘Around,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry I left you like that.’

She doesn’t accept my apology, just shrugs. Breaks my heart to see that look on her face, like she knew she was dumb to expect anything from me.

‘It’s not like you’re my boyfriend,’ she says.

‘Did I make you cry?’ I ask, voice so quiet.

She exhaled a long sigh. ‘After you left, I tried to find you, and I ran into Matt.’

‘What happened?’ I lean forward, elbows on my knees.

‘He came to the club hoping to talk.’

‘About what?’ My chest aches at the thought of her getting back together with him. After all he put her through, and after I let my emotions get away from me for a single night, leaving her alone with him.

‘He wanted to apologise, get dinner. Said he missed me.’

‘Oh,’ I say into the quiet room.

‘I told him to fuck off, basically.’ Molly presses her hands against her eyelids. ‘It just–it all rattled me. I don’t know why.’

Taking a liberty that I don’t deserve, I sit on the bed beside Molly and wrap an arm around her shoulders. Molly falls into me without fight, lifting her knees and turning her body into mine while I hold her.